Not what I used to be

 It was 9am on a beautiful winter's morning, just after Christmas.

There was snow on the branches, and sun on the snow - a perfect winter wonderland

A text came in from a friend - was I up for a snowshoe hike that afternoon? We'd been trying to get together for a walk for ages, but various things had got in the way. So, I jumped at the opportunity for some safe, outdoor, responsibly-distanced fun, and we made a date for around 2:30pm.

For a couple of hours of snowy, woodsy rambling

There was a problem, though: rain was predicted to start that evening, and wash all that lovely snowpack away. Much as I love snowshoeing, I hadn't got my cross-country skis out yet this season, and it's tougher to find good enough snow to ski on than it is to find snow for snowshoeing. Plus I needed to get out for a run (because 100 in 100), so this was all going to have to be a bit tactical.

Esme, though, was not feeling any particular sense of urgency while we had a bite to eat.

Tanker was sweet enough to load up our skis and poles in the car, then we got changed into kit and set off for the Beaverdale Road trailhead of the Mill Run Trail. The car gave us a bit of a scare with a very difficult start - we were starting to fear for the battery before the engine finally caught - but fortunately ran perfectly afterward. We arrived just after noon, and if you're thinking that 3 hours is a lot of time to get ready and be at a trailhead 10mins from home, well...heck it, I was on holidays. 

It may also have taken me around 30mins just to figure out what I needed to wear

Conditions on the trail were fantastic - we'd been concerned about sticky snow with temperatures around the freezing mark, but since the passage of lots of feet ahead of us had packed things down significantly we were getting pretty solid glide.

Except when we ventured a bit off piste..

We skied out about 2km west to Speedsville Road, and I was starting to feel it a bit - it's almost like I was taking part in a sport in which I'd had zero practice for 11 months or something..

Imagine that!

By the time we returned to the car - a little more than 45mins later, as I'd been stopping lots to take photos of the snowy trail - my whole body was letting me know that 4km was plenty for the first ski of the year. 

I was just delighted to have got one in, and to share it with my sweetheart!

Then, of course, I shucked off my wind vest, insulated skirt, and ski boots - I threw on a pair of running shoes, and took off at twenty past one in the opposite direction to the section we'd skied, heading west toward Hespeler.

Across the ugly new bridge they put in last November - the wooden one was so much better suited to the trail!

I tried to strike a balance between my photographic appreciation of the snowy woods and trying to keep moving efficiently, as I knew I was a bit short on time..

But it was SO PRETTY

All told it took me just shy of 35mins to run a little more than 5km out to Guelph Avenue and back, with numerous compliments on my ugly Christmas sweater from other trail users.

It's just perfectly, festively hideous!

Jumping in the car with moments to spare before 2pm, I was very happy that I'd laid out my change of clothes for snowshoeing before we'd left. I ate the thermos full of oatmeal I'd prepared and left in the car while Tank drove us home, jumped into my dry apparel, and was back out the door by 2:30pm...having let my friend know I'd be a few minutes late.

The snow hadn't gone anywhere yet, though!

My snowshoes were strapped on and we set off into the woods by 2:50pm, having our breath taken away by the gorgeous scenery, the lingering sunshine, and occasionally the hills.

The sun lined up just perfectly down one particular corridor

The temperatures had stayed fairly mild - only about -2c - so it was comfortable to be out with minimal insulation as long as you were moving a bit.

Elf hat optional.

Ninety or so minutes and nearly 6km later, the sun was starting to fade..

..and so was I.

Back to my car - which fortunately had performed perfectly after the one morning hiccup, and didn't even get stuck! - I thanked my friend for a fun hike, bade them goodbye, and headed home. I finally got to drink the cup of coffee I'd quickly made while getting changed (delighted to find it still hot thanks to one of my incredible collection of insulated vessels; if you go outdoors in winter, you owe it to yourself to get a great thermos that will keep a beverage hot for you to enjoy when you're done), and ate the granola bar I'd stuck in my pocket.

I arrived back at the house by 4:30pm, had a salad and a hot shower, and went for a little 20min walk around our neighbourhood with Tank. By the time 8pm rolled around, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open! That's when I finally figured out that I'd sort of accidentally put in over 3 hours of self-propelled time since noon that day.

And also carried around a little extra weight here and there.

I hadn't had a day that full of motion since early November, and certainly not since (probably) contracting Covid in early December. While my symptoms were never more than a bit of a cold, it's now been over a month since the virus came home and I still have a bit of drippy nose in the morning, plus an occasional wheeze in my throat. 

It occurred to me that my plan - to ski, run, then snowshoe hike all in an afternoon - had been born out of arrogance. I've barely done any runs over an hour this year, let alone put in the long training days to which I'd become accustomed in years past. I blithely assumed I could pursue 3 sports in a day with no repercussions, and was appropriately humbled (and worn the heck out!) by the attempt.

Still, I think it says a lot for the lasting quality of endurance adaptation that I was able to enjoy a long day on my feet at all, in spite of the year's de-training and while getting over an illness. To be honest I didn't even really feel the weight of the fatigue until I was in that hot shower afterward, when I swear it felt like the stream of water turned into a ton of bricks falling on me.

I suddenly felt as laden as this fallen tree, and just as much like laying down!

I was bright enough to give myself the grace to only run once the next day, offering at least a bit of recovery. Since then, I've tried to be a bit more aware of pushing myself as I really don't want to allow this idiot virus to regain a foothold. I have a long way to go (both literally and figuratively) to get back in ultra shape, and I'd rather not be the perpetrator of any of my own setbacks!

Still 100% worth it to have such a lovely day playing in the snow, though.

Wishing you all a happy new year, and hoping you've had a safe and enjoyable holiday season!

Merry COVID-mas

 This is likely to be my last post of this strange, stressful, frustrating year.

It won't be...mist.

For the first time in my professional life, I'm part of a company that shuts down from Christmas Eve 'til after new year's, and I can't wait to have some proper downtime in which to relax. It's been a bit of a stressful couple of weeks.

I've taken my moments of peace wherever I could find them.

Last Monday - December 7th - Tank was informed that there had been a confirmed positive Covid case in the warehouse. Since it was his closest work associate, we were both concerned, and he commenced self-isolation as soon as he returned home that evening. We booked a test for him, but couldn't get an appointment until Wednesday afternoon; they wouldn't test me at all, since I'd had no direct contact with the positive case.

The way ahead seemed dark.

The upside was this gave us some time for Tank to call CRA in an attempt to get his account unlocked, as we'd both been subject to fraudulent CERB claims back in July and he has no way of sitting on hold for more than an hour during the times that our government deigns to provide service to its citizens. He'd need his account to claim the new Canada Recovery Sickness Benefit so he could have some income while he was isolating.

It also meant I got some company on my afternoon lunch runs!

Tank was called Friday morning to confirm our fears: he'd tested positive for Covid, and since we'd both been experiencing some cold-like symptoms, I booked in to have myself tested on Saturday. I also had to inform my employer that I had potentially been infected when I last visited the office on Friday, December the 4th. Definitely not good times!

It also meant I needed to isolate as well, so an unpleasantly rainy afternoon became an opportunity for a trail run as I didn't expect many people to be out.

Resolving the issues with CRA took many calls and probably a full work day's total time on hold, and I continued to do my job full-time from home as I tried to help Tank resolve the issues. Bafflingly enough, my test came back negative - I'd been warned by the public health nurses at the test site that a false negative was a possibility, and to isolate according to the schedule given to Tank regardless of the result. Since he was to remain quarantined until the end of Thursday, December 17th, we ordered in some groceries to supplement what I had stocked in the freezer, and hunkered in at home.

Save for a bit of trail time, making sure I stayed well away from anyone but the trees.

Fortunately, we both seem to have had mild cases (assuming mine is even Covid); just some throat soreness, a runny nose, and some fatigue. I've dropped back to bare minimum distance for the most part, but continue to run once daily from Monday to Thursday and twice each Saturdays and Sundays.

Even discovering some beautiful new places.

Our symptoms seem to be fading, Tank has now been cleared to return to work on Monday, and we seem to have his affairs mostly in order with the government, so hopefully some peace can return to our lives in time for the holiday season so close at hand. It's been wonderful being spoiled with fresh-brewed coffee in the mornings; having company during the day and on runs; and getting a helping hand with a few things around the house...but I also value having un-distracted time to do my work, some of which requires intense concentration.

In running and in life, sometimes you just need a solo mission.

So it seems we've gone in for the full pandemic experience, just as the light of vaccine approvals appears to dawn on the horizon. Hopefully within a few months this will all just be the stuff of memory, letting us trade our masks for race bibs and gather to celebrate with our friends and family.

I truly wish you all the best as 2020 draws to a close - may you be filled with joy and festive spirit, surrounded by love and care, and stay happy and healthy all through the new year!

Be safe out there, and I'll see you in 2021!

Slush fund

There's a big thing going on today. I'm ignoring it, because what's happening tomorrow is way more up my alley.

It's Frosty Trail time!

WHEEEEEEEEEE

It is not in actual fact looking all that frosty.

Though I think I'd rather have frost than rain..

It appears there will, however, be an abundance of rotted ice and mushy snow. A friend went and walked the 2.0km loop at Camp Heidelberg today, and...well..

Credit for all 3 photos goes to Steven Parke

So it looks like the name of the game will be "try to stay upright and not get stuck in a quagmire of slushy mud".

Not that I'd know anything about mud at Camp Heidelberg..

From, say, Horror Trail in 2012 and 2013..

Fortunately this one is just for kicks - no performance goals at all, as I wouldn't really call myself "recovered" from the RUN4RKIDS 8-hour a fortnight ago, not to mention:

• not tapering (I've actually started re-building distance this week)
• lack of sleep the last couple of days...as if that's anything new.
• having 2 wisdom teeth pulled last Tuesday
• finally having got rid of a lingering sinus infection this week
• being (almost) fully mobile again after my back locked up on my last Saturday, likely as a result of some interpretive dance moves to stay upright on an icy trail run.

So, traction devices will be packed and fingers shall be crossed!

It's only 3 hours, right? How bad could it be..?

The most ill advised yet?

2017 hasn't been super kind to me so far.

New Year's Eve got off to a great start: after a really wonderful, snowy trail run, I changed at the car and we hiked up the trail for a fantastic meal (ok, more like 2.5 meals) at an incredible local barbecue joint.

I hadn't yet seen this part of the trail in winter - it's breathtaking!

There are no photos of the ridiculous quantity of animal parts we consumed.
Even the collard greens had bacon in them!

After hiking (more like waddling) back to the car, we drove over to Bingemans to check out their Gift of Lights display, some of which I'd run through earlier as the trail. It's quite an impressive bit of work, including animated figures and a neat tunnel of lights that I got to run through twice on foot and once in the car.

By the time we got home and I'd managed to shower, I was in rough shape. I spent the rest of New Year's Eve prostrate on the couch, sniffling and coughing in a torpor. Tanker roused me to some kind of life a few minutes before midnight, we watched the CBC coverage at Parliament Hill to kick off Canada's 150th year, and after a bit of stand-up comedy I dragged myself upstairs to bed. Party animal!

The first few days of this brand new year have been spent agonizing over a series of car issues (that we finally seem to have sorted out - knock wood!) and fighting a sinus infection with swelling severe enough to cause stabbing toothaches and incessant phlegm.

And the throbbing - OH GAWD THE THROBBING

Thankfully, it's never progressed past "head stuffed with goo", so I've been able to continue getting some fun stuff in, like our New Year's Day cross-country ski (and hot chocolate brew-up in the woods):

So happy the Mill Run Trail is (mostly) open again.

Plus a backyard campfire to end the first day of the year:

We only found out once we were out there that it had dropped to -10c/14f.

I've kept on running, too, though the workouts have been fairly short and I've been prioritizing sleep (for once in my bloody life). Apart from being ill, I'm trying to ensure I might have some hope of getting through Saturday.

At this.

Despite some lingering snifflyness and the recent Arctic blast of air (windchill of -20c/-4f for last night's run) being the worst thing possible for heat acclimatization, I do still intend to at least show up for the RUN4RKIDS 8-hour indoor ultra. I have no idea what I'll be able to accomplish in my rather diminished state (which I'm assured is not communicable), but I'm going to give it a whack. I hope to manage at least 45 or 50 kilometers - enough to really call it an ultra - but I simply won't know what's possible until I get out there and moving. Having never run an 8-hour before, nor run on an indoor track, I have no benchmarks or performance expectations - I'll just show up and put one foot in front of the other until either 8 hours or my tolerance has expired.

Please, no bets on which comes first.

Waterloo Marathon - April 27th, 2014

Ouch.

Pre-Race

You know it's probably not going to be the best day to run a marathon when your legs feel tired just getting out of bed. I spent far too much time on my feet on Saturday, and had probably run more & harder than I should have in the days preceding the race as well, particularly considering I'd been ill. For that matter, the 36k long run I did a 2 weeks after Around The Bay & 15 days before the marathon (just after getting sick) was probably not my best idea - 42.2k is a bit ambitious to race 4 weeks after a hard 30k even without catching a cold. Despite spending a lot more quality time with my bed than I have in years during taper and getting over the actual coughing, stuffiness and goo-stuffed head, I still arrived at the start line easily susceptible to fatigue. Hell, it took me a week of lots of rest just to get to the point of being eye-twitchingly tired, which is the point at which I found myself in the days leading up to the race.

Up at 4:35am after a pretty lousy night's sleep peppered with interruptions, I stood naked in my kitchen munching a bagel with probably-too-much cream cheese, almond butter, honey & cinnamon (not all on the same bits) and just felt like going back to bed. My legs felt dead and my belly was a bit unhappy - maybe I shouldn't have eaten all that chocolate frosting. After a medjool date with a bit of maca root powder (because I'll try any kind of hoodoo if I think it'll help a marathon suck less) and a tiny bowl of cereal with almond milk, that's exactly what I did. Then I got up again and popped a digestive enzyme to try to settle things down, and crawled once more into bed.

Mmm. Tanker cuddles.

That would be it for this race report, except some idiot part of me didn't want to kiss off on my entry fee. Back out of the Best Bed in the World at 6am to put up the war braids, leaving it to the last possible moment to disturb the blanketed burrito that was my husband. It was his birthday, after all, and he'd not only agreed without protest that I should race on it but also that he'd come and sherpa for me. Y'know, like he always does. That guy's pretty awesome, I tell you. I hit the livingroom carpet for my odd warmup consisting of air-humping and other assorted things noone else really wants to watch (except the one cat who always wants tickles while I'm doing it), then we headed to Tim Hortons - bought Tank a pretzel bagel and got us a couple of cups of coffee, mixing mine with almond milk & chocolate syrup to make my ghetto mocha. Armed with caffeine and cruising on nerves, we drove through the rising sun up to Bechtel Park.


Starting Line

Phase 1 complete: I showed up. It was a chilly morning - just over the freezing mark - with sunny skies and a predicted high of 12c/54f. This, of course, is somewhat difficult to dress for: how do you not freeze at the start or melt before the finish? The answer, in a prime example of ill advised racing philosophy, was to try a brand new and completely untested piece of gear purchased on Friday night.

And dork really, really hard.

Most of the outfit is recognizable from past races - the skirt has been worn so much that it has developed marks from the corners of race bibs rubbing on it, and the calf sleeves offered puffs of Horror Hill mud as I donned them - but the longsleeve shirt had only been tried on prior to Sunday morning. Still, I was pretty confident it would do the trick; very soft, lightweight merino wool (my love affair continues) with flatlocked & external seams to prevent chafing, side gussets for good fit & easy movement, thumbholes to provide some hand warmth, and eyelet mesh over the whole back and underarms to keep the hot bits cool. For the very beginning, I'd just have to TRUST THE CHUB as I did at ATB. I ran into a couple of friends, including Ron Gehl (yay for getting a straw!), used the washroom a couple of times, discussed wardrobe choices with other racers ("..but then again I wore this skirt for the Horror Hill 6-hour last October in the snow, so maybe I'm not the best judge.."), and twitched a bit.

Gel flask in tri top pocket, gloves, earband & hand bottle. Ready...ish.

Or maybe not.

I did some high knees, butt kicks and bounced up and down a little (as I had at Around the Bay), still not feeling terribly energetic. With about 10mins before gun time, I followed Race Director Tony Lea out of the indoor soccer facility (which was a balmy 15c/59f or so) toward the start/finish arch in the driveway. The air didn't feel too frosty at first, but then the wind out of the North hit us and I exploded into goosebumps. I got a kiss from my sweetheart, then tried to find tall people in the start area to hide behind as we were heading out directly into the wind. I saw one other racer in a skirt, and a glitzy one at that - about the colour of my shirt with a swirly pattern on it done in blue, black and glitter! Within a minute or two the air horn sounded and we were off - I'm told that it was actually incredible masters runner Ed Whitlock who gave us a pre-race pep talk and sent us off before hammering the half marathon, but I was too lost in my own trepidations to notice.

DO NOT WANT

0-10k: Um, what's going on here?

So, off and away. The plan is to go out conservatively, because marathons are long and the last 10k (in my memory) is very hilly - there are no pacers at this race, as only about 100 people total run the full distance per year. Out of Bechtel Park, right turn on Bridge, and down a big hill - as we reach the traffic circle at Lancaster I can already tell this is going to go better than my other attempt in 2011. Y'see, I experienced something at the start of my very first marathon that has never happened before or since: as I ran down that first big hill, it felt as though someone had inserted glass rods in the quads on both my legs and then smashed them with a hammer, filling my thighs with a million shards of pain. I've no explanation for why it happened (I actually did a warmup run before the race and don't think I ran very hard down the hill), but since it occurred within the first kilometer, it completely changed the character of the rest of the run. This time, however, my legs felt fine.

Though running with my eyes closed proved too difficult to sustain.

I did, however, have another problem. I was running along at an effort level that felt like it might have been a bit high for the start of a marathon - breathing wasn't really laboured, but I definitely wasn't just strolling along - and watching most of the other racers pull away from me. Ok, that's fair: I'm not fast, and most of the people who come out to the Waterloo Marathon are pretty strong, since it's not one of the "flat and fast - set a PR" kind of courses that appeals to the masses (hence the small field). I figure I can probably settle right around a 5:55-6:00/km pace and run pretty happily for most of it, and that may very well put me toward the back of the pack. Except I check my watch as I pass the 1km marker, and it says 6:14. I started it when I crossed the timing mat at the start, so there's no offset, and it's not like I had to thread my way through traffic at all. I hoped the marker might be off a bit, but when I came through 2k at 12:36 I knew it was going to be a long day.

The first 10k.

I tried picking it up a bit, basically hoping I could surge up to something above my desired pace and then back off in comfort to cruise along where I wanted to be - I was through the 4k mark in about 24:28, so coming closer to managing a decent clip, but it was feeling really tough. The elevation profile above shows that after the initial descent we had a lot of climbing to do, and just before the 5k marker (which I completely missed seeing) the road curved around directly into the wind. I had a swig of EFS Liquid Shot from my flask around 35mins in and was drinking regularly from my hand bottle - I was warm enough without being too warm, and it was actually turning out to be a pleasant day. My legs kept turning over and I was even dealing with the hills reasonably well; I just didn't have much oomph. It was super nice to see a friendly face and get a high five just before the half & full courses diverged at the corner of Sawmill & Crowsfoot - thanks for coming out again Dave!

1st 10k split: 1:00:28 @ 6:03/km

Just before the turn onto Crowsfoot, after getting my high five.

10-20k: Chasing a bunny

After managing to climb up Crowsfoot Road I was feeling slightly less sorry for myself, especially since I had passed a few people along the way. I tried to pass a friendly word with those around me, but noone seemed very talkative - most were plugged into their headphones and ignoring the world around them, or at least the part of it that contained skirted dorks. Seems like a lousy way to spend a race, but then again what do I know? With so few racers and the course being a single loop it was best to anticipate being alone for most of the run, and I know I'm kind of a weirdo for never running with music even in training. Whatever makes your pickle crunch! I just kept on trucking, taking another swig off my gel flask around 11k and moving it to my right-hand pocket instead of my left. I don't know why.

The dead deer in the ditch on the side of the road was a less than inspiring sight, but the kilometers were ticking by and at least I seemed to have stabilized my effort a bit. This was about the flattest section of the whole course, and I was making up a bit of time while gaining on the racers ahead of me. Around 13km in I spotted Ron Gehl's fluorescent tie-dye hat up ahead and decided I was going to catch him. I worked steadily, reeling him (and, coincidentally, a few other people) in one step at a time, and finally caught him in the sugarbush right around the 15k mark...just as he dodged off for a natural break! I'd seen him running together with another fellow in a tie-dye shirt (how perfect!), with whom I now found myself virtually in step.

Note that the "flattest part of the course" is mostly uphill.

Map of pain

I offered a bit of friendly chatter, and it turned out my new companion was game for a bit of conversation. His name was Scot, his lovely Mum kept turning up along the course to cheer him on, and he was an engineer who totally gets my incessant calculating of fractions during races (ie: 14k is approx 1/3 of the way done, 18k is 3/7, etc). I noticed he was wearing a Garmin GPS watch and asked what kind of a finish he was working toward: he said he was trying to keep it right around 6:00/km (as he has the common tendency to go out too fast) to finish between 4:12:xx and 4:13:xx. I told him he was my new best friend, as I figured I could just try to keep up with him and I'd be home safe. I was realistically looking at between 4:15-4:20 for a finish given that I was just on the edge of being able to converse with Scot as we ran, but figured I could do a lot worse than having a friendly pace bunny to tow me along and socialize a bit.

2nd 10k split: 59:46 @ 5:59/km

20k split: 2:00:14 @ 6:01/km

20-30k: Hanging on by my fingernails

I'd had to stop 3 years ago right around the halfway mark to use the portajohn, and that was one more way in which it looked like I was having a better day than the last time. I will freely admit that I could have used a washroom break, but it wasn't anything urgent. I'd felt the same way while running Around the Bay last month, and was totally able to keep it together. Still, I wondered if I might not be searching for a new pre-race breakfast again, or maybe if going back to bed was a bad idea - would I have digested better if I'd stayed awake?

On the dirt section of Maryhill Road near the halfway mark it became apparent that I'd have my work cut out for me to stay with my pace bunny. As you can see from the elevation profile below, there's a dip and a significant hill as you approach 22k. Scot trucked up that hill like every other one I saw him run: at exactly the same pace he was running on the flats. I'd apparently found myself a metronome, but trying to keep up with him was costing me a bit. Additionally, he was just grabbing a cup of sport drink at the aid stations, where I was having to pause to get my bottle filled before surging back up to him again. This was not the best way to pace a marathon, but I still felt like trying to run with Scot was the best chance I had of putting in a decent finish, as it was making me push myself a bit harder than I would if I'd just been toddling along on my own.

Artist's conception of Scot and I running.
Apologies to Scot if he ever sees this. The "artist" will be duly flogged.

The day was warming up, so I had ditched my gloves in the spare pocket of my tri top - it's amazing how much of an effect my hands can have on my temperature regulation. Turning off Maryhill Road onto Katherine Street/23 as I polished off a chocolate raspberry Gu Roctane gel (y'know, to keep things interesting), we were approaching the covered bridge that is one of the pretty little highlights of the course. When I'd seen him before the race, Dave asked me how tough the big descent to & climb from the covered bridge felt, shown in the middle of the elevation profile below.

I'd forgotten all about it.

Well, it turns out it sucks. A lot. My legs were definitely starting to talk to me by this point, and had very little positive to say. I'd also developed a blister on the bottom of my left big toe, seemingly from a tiny bit of gravel that made its way into my shoe on Maryhill Road. Scot and I ran down the fairly steep lane to the covered bridge, then he was just about rid of me as we made our way up the correspondingly agonizing climb back up to Line 86. His mum appeared in her vehicle as we trucked up the road, first parked and then pulling past us saying "This is an uphill!". Thanks. I'd never have known.

Yep, I got dropped.

Working to catch up again.

I did manage to get back together with Scot, and the fellow behind us in this photo (whom the race results tell me is named Cornel) made his way up to us just as we made the turn West toward Elmira. It turns out Cornel is South African, and had been in Canada for a couple of weeks - he heard about this marathon and decided to jump right in before he flew home the following day.

So, the three of us ran together across the relatively flat and featureless expanse of Line 86. I was really starting to struggle to keep up, as I'd ended up death whistling trying to stick with Scot as we came off the covered bridge. I saw a set of street lights approaching and wondered if it was really Northfield Drive - we were only about 27km in and I could have sworn that we didn't turn South until 10k left to go. I stopped to get my bottle filled again at the aid station just before the lights, and it became apparent that it was indeed our turn. The "last 10k of rolling hills" were actually more like 15km - call it closer to 10 miles.

A kindly volunteer provides precious, precious fluids.

As we made the turn and headed down a long hill before climbing back up, 2 things became undeniably apparent:

1) I was not going to be able to hang with Scot and Cornel.

2) I was not getting through this race without a portajohn stop.

I was actually having to scold myself quite a bit to keep from dropping to a walk, and as I forced myself to keep running I was forced to watch my two companions inch further and further ahead of me. By the time we climbed the hill just after 29k they had outdistanced me by at least 15 metres, and would do so even more as I sought relief from a perfectly positioned loo. It was even vacant - hallelujah!

Relieved of my - ahem - burden, I felt a bit better, but now I had a pretty major issue: in pulling my skirt (with its seamless boy shorts underneath) off to take care of business, I seemed to have removed the essential layer of BodyGlide I'd so carefully applied to my upper thighs before the race. This was bad. I have what are technically known as "fat friggin' thighs", and have boundless knowledge of that particular experience darkly referred to as chub rub. I could feel friction with every single step, yet couldn't think of anything I could really do about it. Spit in my hand and apply? Might very well make things worse, especially since I'd continued to swig on gel. Squirt some water in there? Umm, it may help temporarily, but not a long-term solution. Pee myself? Apart from having just used a portajohn, what did I think this was, a triathlon? So, I decided to ignore it and get on with things as best I could. I actually managed to pass some of the people who'd gone trotting by as I was in the loo!

3rd 10k split: 1:01:24 @ 6:08/km (including portajohn stop)

30k split: 3:01:38 @ 6:03/km

30-40k: The wheel fell off, so we took it out to the back 40 and shot it.

I invite you to look at the elevation profile below and ask yourself if it's something you'd want to experience toward the end of a marathon. Gee, I wonder why registration is always so low for this race?

The words "net downhill" never rang so hollow.

I pulled off my earband and stuffed it in my pocket with the gloves, and turned up the sleeves on my shirt a bit - I had a tailwind and I was feeling warmer than I needed to, but not by much. The new shirt was actually pretty awesome; I just have too much surface area (ha, ha!) in order to cool myself effectively in anything but sub-arctic conditions. Thoughts of a 4:15 finish were gone - it simply wasn't going to happen. I could still probably take a solid whack at 4:20, though, which would still be a 17+min PR. Really, I'd hit such a point in damage control that I was just forcing myself not to walk. Slowing down on an uphill (and my, there were plenty of those) was ok, but walking was not an option. As I wound down Northfield Drive to Conestogo I reflected on how much nicer this route really is on a motorcycle - rolling hills and sweeping curves, with farmlands stretching all around. Around 33k I downed another packet of Roctane, hoping the caffeine would give me a bit of a lift. Come to think of it, that may be what caused the portajohn stop: I usually don't use caffeinated gels until the final hour of a race.

Finally re-entering Waterloo around kilometer 37, there's a bloody great climb up to University Avenue, where the penultimate turn of the course takes you past RIM Park. Suddenly it all came flooding back: for the last 5km of the race, they pack as many damn hills as possible in just to mess with you. It was this point in 2011, coming up a nasty hill into a headwind, that I quite literally snarled and told the entire universe to bugger all the way off. I also remembered having my legs destroyed by these same hills at the 2011 Re-Fridgee-Eighter 8 mile, but used my usual tactic at the end of a long race: telling myself "c'mon, it's only 5km - any asshole can run 5km". My hamstrings pointed out that they'd already run 37k, thank you very much, and threatened to cramp on a couple of occasions. Fortunately, their threats were empty.

Artist's conception of my legs.

On the bright side, none of the hills actually seemed to be as big and steep as I remembered. On the not-so-bright side (and I definitely wasn't feeling very bright at this point), there were just So. Damn. Many of them. I was, however, actually passing people. Others were clearly suffering worse than I was, and I tried to offer a kind word to each of them as I ran by. I also giggled a bit at some triathlete out riding his P5 in an aerohelmet. Pfft. Tridorks.

Legs sore & chafed, feet complaining, and totally ready to be done, I finally hit the 40k marker. How many hills could they really pack into the last 2 kilometers?

4th 10k split: 1:02:20 @ 6:14/km

40k split: 4:03:59 @ 6:06/km

40-42.2k: MERCY

It turns out the answer is two. One of which is almost a full kilometer long.

Oof.

I was full-on death whistling by this point, but I couldn't care less - I was almost done and had nothing to hold back for anymore! Legs wingeing on the uphills and positively screaming on the downhills, I finally hit the bottom of a climb and spotted the 7-11 gas station at the top: that was at the corner of Bridge & University, less than a block from Bechtel Park! I crested the hill at last, knowing that the final stretch down the driveway to the finish was a bit of a decline. I was going to make it after all!

Thanking the police and volunteers who were directing traffic (as I'd thanked all the other volunteers & officers along the way; it's what I do), I was pleased not to have any cars cut me off as I passed the busy plaza and made the final left-right onto Bridge and then into the park. Around the curve and down the hill, Tanker spotted me and gave me a really wonderfully emotional "YEAH! Way to go babe!" I continued through the arch, arms aloft, then totally failed to stop running. I'd got my legs so accustomed to turning over even when they didn't want to that it took a moment or two for me to put it together that "hey, you're done; you can stop now, dummy!"

Ill Advised Racing gang sign for Tanker

2.2km split: 13:29 @ 6:03/km

Official chip time: 4:17:28 @ 6:06/km

20:25 PR vs 2011

53/92 finishers O/A (101 starters)
16/33 female finishers (36 starters)
9/11 in W30-39
Hooray for not sucking as badly as I did 3 years ago!

Aftermath:

I was congratulated kindly by some friends after the race (some of whom were weird enough to have run the Pick Your Poison 50k the day before - MANIACS!), then headed inside to get myself a post-race massage. I was still in love with the new shirt - I seem to have pretty good luck with the new stuff I try on race day (knock wood)!

Best I've felt all day!

A glance at my flask post-race showed I'd taken in approximately 250cal of EFS Liquid Shot in addition to the two packets of Gu Roctane for a total of about 450cal. I might have been better off leaving the caffeine for later than 22k into the race, as it may have led to the portajohn stop at 29.x kilometers. However, I also recall really needing to "lighten my load" by the end of Around the Bay as well, so maybe my current pre-race nutrition only allows ~3hrs of running before requiring expulsion. Something with which I may continue to experiment.

While I'm hugely happy with the 20min PR, I really feel like I had a better race in me had I not been ill and come in carrying so much fatigue. In retrospect the 36k run I did 2 weeks out was probably pretty stupid when I was just getting sick - I'd been running pretty well by a week after Around the Bay, but never quite seemed to get it back after that long slog. The light, easy stride that taper usually brings around just never appeared, and my left eye was twitching before I even arrived at the starting line on race day - never a good sign. It seems like I'll have to make another attempt at a road marathon at some point, taking a little more care of myself in advance to stay healthy & rested.

Sense of accomplishment: check.

On the other hand, for only being my 2nd road marathon and facing the challenge of adjusting pace to accommodate the post-illness fatigue, I'm pretty pleased with how even my 10k splits were - the slowest (from 30k-40k, in really the worst of the hills) was only 02:34 behind my fastest (10k-20k). Furthermore, in the grand scheme of things, I ran this 29 seconds per kilometer faster than my first attempt - as a matter of fact, I was 2sec/km faster than my first half-marathon back in 2009 (on a net downhill course). The only thing better than seeing how far I've come is being able to share it with my best friend, who coincidentally happens to be the world's best husband and sherpa.

The best finish line treat is being able to spend the rest of the day with him.